


A Collection of Stuff

by TheDarkSide



Category: Naruto
Genre: Cat/Human Hybrids, Drabbles, Dragon!Senju, Feline characteristics, Jealous Hashirama, M-preg mentions, M/M, Madara is an asshole, Selkie!Tobirama, Wildlife Photographer!Madara, Winged Hashirama, Wingfic, mentions of HashiTobi, random ideas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-02-27 22:01:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSide/pseuds/TheDarkSide
Summary: Just random drabbles that appear. Will probably be short. Feel free to add any ideas you may have, and perhaps they'll inspire me.





	1. A New Face in the White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MadaTobi.

There is a man on Tobirama’s floe. He’s bundled up think in those loud and colourful garments the humans wear so their bodies don’t freeze, and he’s carrying a black box with a little cylinder attached. Tobirama swims a little closer, slides silently up out of the water, and wriggles closer. The shushing of snow startles the human, sending him toppling over backward in an amusing puff of white and-  _ really, if he’d have been a penguin Tobirama would’ve had him by now _ . There’s frantic flailing from the hollow in the snow, and a wild head of black hair appears. The man whirls, mouth open and face an angry red and just- stops. Tobirama meets his eye unblinkingly huffing an irritable snort before opening his mouth wide to yawn.  _ Look _ , it says-  _ look at all my teeth, at how white and sharp they are _ . There’s a satisfying gulp and the human backs away hastily. Tobirama watches him retreat to the other side of the floe and scramble to get the little kanoe untied.

There’s cursing as the kanoe drifts just out of reach, a mad grab at the sliding rope coming up empty. Tobirama turns away, gaze wandering to the dent in the snow. There’s a bag with the black box-and-cylinder, and he noses both cautiously before gripping the cylinder and biting. Not hard, just to test.  _ Not interesting _ , though the human squeals like a distressed penguin when it crunches a little. Tobirama tosses it aside with a flick of his head, sending it flying to land in the snow a small ways away from the human. The bag is up next, and he’s got to grab it and shake it thoroughly for anything to happen. There’s a loud rip and- “No!” The human claps a hand over his gaping mouth, looking absolutely horrified with himself.

Teeth grip the bag, and Tobirama looks the owner in the eye as he chews, sending the contents tumbling into the snow. When the bag is empty, it goes the same way as the camera, and Tobirama is left with scraps of fabric and little tins in the snow. There’s a black roll, which upon a testing bite proves to be squishy but uninteresting, and he tosses it aside. The tins smell good, but too hard to bite through without causing him pain. Tobirama snuffles at the fabric. The smaller scraps smell rather appetising, musky and salty. The human whines and there’s a soft click, drawing Tobirama’s attention. The box-and-cylinder is cradled in the mans’ hands, opened to reveal a shiny circle of domed glass. Another click, “I can’t believe I’m photographing a leopard seal going through my underwear.” It’s mumbled almost resentfully.


	2. The Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of HashiTobi ahead.

Shodaime’s fire is long burning, like all the best house fires, but not very hot. A golden flame that casts the most beautiful shadows- so unlike the blue-white flames of his sibling that Madara can feel scorching the back of his robe as he runs. He curses his luck for the millionth time this morning, though he can’t say he resents the dragon at his heels. In fact, Madara is more guilty than anything else- they are the last after all. There’s no more pride in introducing himself as a Hunter, not when the two brothers are his only remaining lucrative prey and most certainly not now that he’s gotten to name them.

He returns a week later. It’s been hard work, trekking through the mountains in search of his quarry. Sometimes he thinks they know him personally, that they may be as sentient and intelligent as he is. Izuna calls him mad, but there are moments- little broken tree branches that couldn’t be anything more than deliberate. These are the hints he follows, up the steep mountainside and into the bowl between two cliffs. Beyond he finds a secluded little clearing, and within the twisting bodies of both dragons. One deep earthy tones, dusted with clouded greens, and the other purest white but for a smattering of markings in red down his back. 

Madara creeps closer, readies his bow and the poison of his arrow. He must make some kind of noise, because Nidaime lifts his head from where the brothers roll together. The hunter freezes, prepares for an attack- a bird startles him. Madara presses himself back against a tree and clutches at his stuttering heart. When he opens his eyes again and turns to look back at the dragons Shodaime has his pale sibling pressed into the wildflowers. A perfect shot, and Madara lifts his crossbow, aims down the sight at the dragons gold and green eye. His finger tightens on the trigger, follows that weak spot as the dragon bends his head.

The brothers press their noses together, rub snouts- and it’s such a familiar image. Madara has seen his eagles do so with their life partners time and time again to reaffirm their love. Suddenly he understands- they’re litter mates yes, but more than that. A mated pair. Bonded for life and the very last of their kind. Madara lowers his bow, takes a step back- and flinches when a twig snaps underfoot. He cracks an eye open just in time to see the dragons turn to look at him, his gaze meeting burning gold and red.


	3. Stray Kitten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on a NSFW winged!Hashirama, and this stems from that and my love of HashiTobi.  
> HashiTobi chapter.

“Butsuma-sama, you cannot be serious! To bring a sworn natural enemy into the Senju household would cause an outrage! My Lord are you listen-” the patriarch of the Senju Clan whirls, broad wings sweeping out to force the wizened elder away from the precious bundle in his arms. “Yes, Toshi, I hear you! What I am not going to do, is listen. He’s but a child, hardly old enough to be weaned and you would have me leave him out in the snow to die.” The elder huffs, stomping away and muttering uncomplimentary things about soft hearts, stiff greyed wings dragging behind him along the corridor. Butsuma watches him go, his own wings hiked up around his shoulders to shield his parcel from prying eyes as he turns and marches toward the living room. He kneels slowly at the kotatsu, his wife and son crowding around him to get a glimpse at the swaddled body in his arms.

Hashirama leans forward to lift away the corner of the repurposed coat, downy wings fluttering with excitement, to reveal the chubby pale face within. A great big yawn full of tiny teeth, and hands emerge to extend sharp little claws that catch at Butsuma’s stubble. Lashes white as snowflakes and just as delicate flutter open to reveal eyes like fresh raspberries with rapidly contracting slit pupils. “He’s so pretty Tou-san!” Hashirama’s exclamation flattens great big fluffy ears, and there’s a sulky sniff. “Shh, Hashi, not so loud. He has sensitive ears,” murmurs Senju Kaiouru as she turns clasp wings with her husband. “He’s beautiful, Anata, we shall have to beat the Uchiha off him when he grows. I am glad you took him under wing, I will cherish him as one of my own and give him little brothers so that he’ll not be overwhelmed by our son. Welcome to our nest, little Tobirama.”

 

“Anija! Anija get out of the river, we’re going to be late! And you have a bath at home, for Kami sake why must I do everything,” Hashirama can hear Tobirama’s grumbling, and briefly debates telling him that the way his hair and tail fluff up make him more cute than scary, but that would give it all away. Instead all he does is spread his wings, free of hatchling down for nigh on a decade now, out over the water to let the moisture soak through the old oil and into his barbs. When they’re heavy and wet, he lifts them out lather the soap into his plumage. Maybe if he asks  _ very _ nicely, then Tobirama will help him preen new oil into them. There’s nothing quite like the sensation of tender claws of the ones he loves more than he should burying deep into his feathers and gently rubbing and tugging them to rights.

Hashirama is almost halfway to fantasising about how nice it would be to feel those claws on his back in an  _ entirely different _ context, when Tobirama’s voice startles him and sends him tumbling into the river. “Tobi! Don’t sneak up on me like that! And turn around! I’m naked,” its a terrible cover up in the hopes of avoiding the embarrassment that would come with his sibling seeing how the rest of him had reacted. Yet, when Hashirama uses an arm to lift his sodden hair out of his face he finds that Tobirama is instead bare and wading  _ into the water toward him _ . “Anija,” he purrs, “I think it’s time we put this game to rest.” Hashirama can’t retreat any further without needing to swim, and flying is impossible with his wings so waterlogged. “Yes, scaring me really isn’t fun. For me, I mean, I know your instincts get a kick out of it but you’re a cat and I’m a b-” he’s hushed by hands parting his curtain of hair, nudging his arm away gently before coming to rest on his cheeks.

His heart is beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, and Hashirama holds his breath as soft rosy lips meet his own only to part for gentle nibbles from sharp teeth. The kiss lingers, and when Hashirama is too frozen by shock and lightheadedness to respond, Tobirama pulls away. “I, I’m sorry, Anija, I must’ve misinterpreted something, I’ll leave-”, the sight of his sibling turning away, the thought of losing all he has ever wanted, spurs him into action. His wings cut off Tobirama’s exit, forming a great dome of brown and gold feathers to net him in, and Hashirama pulls his little brother in for a passionate kiss as droplets rain down from his sodden plumage to patter against their bare skin.


	4. Hard Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unpleasantness ahead, iffy consent and jealousy. If the concept of abortion bothers you, be warned that there is early stage non-graphic abortion ahead. MadaTobi smut and a sidelined HashiTobi.

Tobirama’s calls echo through the forest, deep bellows with chuffing barks at the end, and the remainder of the Senju send Hashirama irritable glares. It's  _ his _ brother that's in heat again, the outcast, faulty Senju with ears and claws and a spotted tail. No matter how much Tobirama does for them, they resent him. "An Uchiha in a white coat," they call him and sometimes it's all Hashirama can do to stop himself from pulling out primary feathers. Just because Tobirama doesn't make mating flights like they do, just because his needs manifest every three months and not once a year, they condemn him. 

Hashirama turns to look into the forest, carries himself up into the canopy with a few flaps of his wings, and sets off to find his brother whom he loves wrong. "He's a tomcat, he'll wander," Butsuma had told him the first time this had happened. His father had fought to let Tobirama remain in the safety of the compound, but nobody had wanted to 'put their daughters at risk of mauling', and so Tobirama must remain locked out. Out there, where the Uchiha might find him, where he's at risk of far more than just death. Hashirama banks to avoid the trunk of a tree, and follows Tobirama's ratcheting calls deep into the woods. The border is close, so close and Tobirama's calls are loud base rumbles that carry for miles even in the dense forest. He worries every time this happens, not just for his siblings safety, but for his secret.

 

Hashirama has flown in tightening circles for twenty minutes before he finds his sibling at the border. It's not unusual for him to venture right to the edge of Senju territory, where the trees are scared by Uchiha claws. He knows that Izuna and Tobirama will fight regularly here with markings on the forest, and he doesn't mind. Except that… That is not Izuna's tree. Those are not Izuna's marks. Tobirama leans in close to the bark, and Hashirama can see how his shoulders move as he takes deep breaths. Then his hands reach up, Hashirama nearly mucks up his landing when Tobirama begins to strip. Clothes, a little dirty and damp, flutter to the forest floor until Tobirama is bare. All he can do is stare as his brother rubs the length of his body up against the deep gouges in the bark, long tail thrashing and curling behind him. Tobirama calls again, louder and more insistent. The tune has changed too, from roaring and chuffing to mewling croons.

They don't need to wait long before there's movement in the brush, and Hashirama half spreads his wings in preparation for a diving kick that will crush a mans skull like a melon. More movement, and a flash of purple--and Madara emerges, slim black tail lashing and ears flicking. Tobirama falls silent immediately. Hashirama’s rival approaches slowly, turning to scent the bark where Tobirama had rubbed himself so diligently and trails a gloved hand to a wet patch of moss. His fingers come away with clear, tacky strings that he brings up to his lips, and licks the stickyness away. "I had no idea," he purrs, stalking slowly towardTobirama, "that you were fertile, little queen." Hashirama can only gape, chest burning with rage and jealousy, as Tobirama allows Madara to approach. His brother turns, putting the Uchiha directly behind him, and crouches. Madara follows him down, gasping as Tobirama’s thick tail of white and black and grey slides up against Madara’s groin to curl forward over his back. The Uchiha's hands grip his siblings cheeks spreading them so that he--and Hashirama--can get a full view of Tobirama’s entrance.

It glitters in the dappled light, and Hashirama sees Madara's hand reaching for his obi. The indigo robe falls open, and the bindings of Madara's underwear go next. Hashirama can only watch, hard and angry but unwilling to deny Tobirama what he needs, as Madara's cock slides slowly into his brothers eager hole. Tobirama yowls, hissing beneath Madara and digging furrows in the loam as the thrusts begin. Madara matches him with deep growls, teeth scraping against his neck to leave bloody stripes, and Hashirama can watch no more. He turns away, flying out of sight before he strokes himself to completion to the sound of his best friend fucking his last little brother into the floor and taking off again to wheel in the sky and cry angry tears.

 

Tobirama returns home that night, dirty and bloodied, and Hashirama greets him with a hug and kills the little bundle of growing cells in his belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update! Surprise!


	5. An Old God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama centric and a little dark and explicit.

He has named the trees. All of them. Of course, Madara thinks him mad, but that hardly matters. It's not like they have names that can be spoken, or written. The trees are named with impressions, important moments in their lives-- Hashirama knows all of those too, he's been here since they sprouted. 

 

Tobirama understands, brilliant sensor that he is. He knows his Anija is not all he seems, and it hardly helps that Hashirama makes mistakes sometimes. His little brother is there to remind him when his legs are a little too long, that humans don't have antlers. Tobirama is most precious to him of all the things in the forest. 

 

Of course, Tobirama is also the last alive to know that they are not brothers. Not even Butsuma had known. His wife, struggling to conceive under the pressure of her arranged marriage had resorted to Senju ways long forgotten. 

 

He remembers it like it was yesterday, the Ritual. The offering hung on one of his trees, a call to him and him alone though he bore no name yet. The lie had been flawless, and Hashirama--newly named-- had spent nine months in her, growing from the little seed that had wriggled through her cervix into a proper human child. Or at least, had grown the proper body.

 

He struggled with emotion, showing either too much or too little as a babe. He'd been too strong, too, his body twisted into that of an infant but no weaker for it. Eventually Hashirama had learnt to play out his emotional responses in order to match the conversation, and that overdoing it was safest.

 

Tobirama had made at easier too, had devised a way to use his sensing to tell Hashirama what emotions are expected of him.


End file.
